Page 16 of Loverboy

He started turning away from me, his body shifting towards the wall, hiding his face to avoid being honest. But two could play at that game. I stood and stepped away from the bed to look out his window at the moonlit sky, rolling my shoulders and sighing as if I was about to leave.

“Stay.” He grabbed a handful of my sweater to keep me from walking even further away.

I raised my eyebrows and gave him a lazy smirk, untangling his hand from my sweater. “Lay down, then.”

Milo was like a little kid being told to go to sleep after staying up way past his bedtime. He tucked himself back in and stared up at me expectantly, watching as I moved to turn off the lights.

“Don’t—”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Shut up and lie down.” I flipped the light switch and let my eyes adjust to the darkness before returning to his bedside to sit on the carpeted floor.

“Play with my hair?” he asked quietly, braver in the dark. The request was almost nostalgic. It’d been years since he asked me to play with his hair.

“Sure,” I murmured affectionately, reaching out to cup his cheek. My fingertips skimmed his skin almost reverently, feeling the cool spots where tears had dried. I reached up into his hair and threaded my fingers through the strands, gently massaging his scalp.

It was quiet for a while, but I knew he wasn’t sleeping. Even in the dark, I could still make out the way he stared at me—wide-eyed and distant, as if he were seeing right through me. I wanted to bring him back to Earth, to ground him in this moment with me.

“Where’d you go, loverboy?” I whispered, resting my chin on the edge of the bed.

His eyes darted from side to side before focusing back on me, the muscles in his face relaxing. “Nowhere.”

“That’s right, you’re right here with me.”

Milo sniffled, and his body began to shake as fresh tears flowed freely down his face. The sight of him made a combination of sadness, rage, and helplessness swirl together inside of me. I hated the way people kept hurting him. I hated the way he’d let them. I hated how he did everything in his power to avoid relying on me, the only constant in his life. The one he’d had since Mom adopted him. The one who’d always be here.

“Jas?” Milo’s voice cracked.

“Yeah?” I cleared my throat, voice thick with emotion.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“I know.”

“Stay with me.”

“I am, I’m right here,” I assured him, fighting for my life to maintain composure. “I’ll do anything you need.”

“Move in with me.”

God help me.

I imagined how bad it would be if he asked anyone else to move in. If he’d asked someone like Oliver, I knew he’d take advantage of his vulnerable state. I couldn’t let someone like him step in. Not when I was right here.

“Right now? Milo, you realize this is a one-bedroom apartment, right?” A strangled laugh escaped me as I tried to read every micro-expression on his face in the dark.

“I could fit you in the storage closet,” he joked sadly, even his laughter marred by heartbreak.

The desperation in his suggestion, even when phrased humorously, tugged at my heartstrings. Heat flooded behind my ribs as I considered his plea. Was I insane for picturing moving myself into a glorified cupboard to keep him safe? Maybe. But the idea of anyone else being the one he turned to made my panic rise like a tide.

It wouldn’t be easy moving out of Mom’s place. She still needed me, and it would break her heart if I suddenly got up and left her alone with Dad.

But Milo needed me right now.

“How big is the closet again?” I laughed, as if it were a joke. But I was already mapping out where I’d throw my mattress.

“I’m just kidding,” he backtracked. “That’s too much. Mom needs you, too.”

“It’s not.” I tightened my grip on his hair, holding him firm without causing pain. It was a warning not to downplay what he needed from me. “Not if it’s what you need.”